The Wolf Will
by TerraThorn
Summary: Will's task was simple: to stop the wizard who had been terrorizing a small hamlet in the Araluen countryside. It was supposed to be brief - Will had handled his fair share of "sorcerers" in his life. Nothing, however, could have prepared him, nor the kingdom, for what this assignment really was. NOTE: I do not own any of the characters or details found in John Flanagan's books.


When Will had heard about the problems caused by a local wizard, he had expected his job to be a short, simple task of locating the man and stopping him, whether with words or weapons being entirely up to the self-proclaimed town terror. He had dealt with his fair share of so-called "wizards" before; while some did indeed have a repertoire of considerable sleights of hand, there was nothing to it that Will hadn't been able to handle. In this case, he had been expecting to take the two-day ride to the village, stop or capture the menace, and be back in time for the annual Gathering, now just four days away.

Now, however, Will wasn't so sure as he watched from the flickering shadows of the wizard's evening campfire. He wasn't one to be awed by tricks of the eye, but in this instance, his confusion kept him in shadows, observing, seeking answers. With but a hushed word that only a Ranger's ears could hear, the tall, robed man had created fire out of freshly cut wood. That had been twenty minutes ago. Since then, the mysterious figure had sat by the fire, reading a voluminous, spined tome not by the light of the fire, but by a brilliant yet small orb of light that radiated from one of his fingers, also initiated by a word. The man's mutterings from the book made Will's hard stand on end.

Needless to say, Will was stunned. Never had he seen fire lit so quickly, nor so pure a light created by man or nature. Magic didn't exist. It was all sleight of hand, every time. These thoughts ran through his head even as he kept his body still, nothing but a shadow in the night.

As he stood silently in the shelter of a tree, the Ranger considered his options, pushing aside the confusion in pursuit of the practical.

He could retreat back to the village and send a message to Baron Arald, as well as to the Rangers, at least to inform them of where he was and the seriousness of the situation.

Of course, there was the possibility that this was all just another situation of smoke and mirrors. If he sent for help, he would never hear the end of it. Also, even if this wizard was the real deal, the teasing and jesting would still follow him, albeit after the situation was taken care of.

The other option was to confront the man. In normal situations, Will would be responsible for taking the man in for his crimes against the local village. Will could do it by talking the man down with the mystique of his role as Ranger. Yet this was no normal situation; he had no idea how this sorcerer would react, nor what capabilities the man had to fight back.

Will was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and he hated it. His decision was a matter of prudence, or a matter or pride.

So he compromised.

Sparing a glance at the wizard to assure himself that the man was still engrossed in the book, Will disappeared into the forest, slipping silently away from the small clearing. Will found Tug standing where he had left him, still saddled, a kilometer away.

"Hey, boy," Will quietly greeted his horse. Tug snuffed quietly in reply, bumping his head against Will's chest, as if to make sure his master was still of sound body since they had parted. Will scratched his neck, then reached into the saddlebags and pulled out his writing materials. By the dim aid of moonlight, he scratched out a note. Repacking the spare paper, Will then folded the note and placed it in the foremost bag at Tug's shoulder, where a friend would look first.

Patting Tug reassuringly, he signaled his horse to stay yet again, and made his trek back to the wizard's campsite.

The robed criminal was still in the same place, poring over page after page, muttering what Will could only assume were incantations to nobody in particular. He was a criminal. That was the though that Will had to hang on to. A criminal who could in no way have any magical or supernatural powers.

He considered just shooting the man. That would remove any chance of a fight. It was a tempting option. But Will's sense of justice shot this idea down; as far as he had heard, this man hadn't taken life. He was most certainly a thief and a terror to the poor, naive townspeople, but he wasn't a murderer, and didn't deserve to be killed in cold blood.

Taking a long breath, Will took the only other option.

"You have been found guilty of crimes against the people of Araluen, wizard," he said, letting his voice carrying across the clearing as he remained hiding in shadows. "Surrender yourself."

The man looked up, revealing the full features of his face for the first time. Will could see a middle-aged man, with a graying beard and bushy eyebrows, and a face pressed down in a persistent scowl. His face was long, and his eyes deeply perceptive, penetrating the darkness around his camp. They paused on the place where Will stood.

Will's hair stood on end. No normal person would be able to see him in the dark, cloaked, completely still. He pushed the feeling aside, fingering the notched arrow in his grip.

"What have you to say for yourself?" Will asked, standing his ground, body tensed for action.

The man stood then, to a towering height. His shadow rose high into the treetops. Will's fingers tightened on the bowstring, pulling the shaft back an inch before he could calm his nerves.

"Finally, some attention. It does take a considerable amount of effort to claim the attention of the esteemed Ranger Corps," the man responded in a rumbling voice that seemed to reverberate through the trees and knock against Will's chest. "Yet only one, and you hide in shadows like a thief in the night. Surely, no man claiming to have the authority of the king would confront an enemy in so underhanded a manner. It is not dishonorable in this kingdom to make threats from the shadows?"

Will did not let the question deflect his own question. "You have terrorized the village of Oak Hill and stolen from her residents. Do you have nothing to say for yourself? Or do you submit yourself to the authority of the king?"

The man didn't look shaken at all. "I do not recognize the man who claims to have the authority of the king. And even if you did have such authority, I would not yield."

That was all Will needed to hear. "If you will not yield to the king, then you shall face his wrath."

With that, Will raised, sighted, and released his arrow.

What happened after that was nothing but raw instinct. The impossible happened. The arrow shattered in mid-air, as if stopped by an invisible wall. The wizard roared something unintelligible, and it was only by the overwhelming instinct to move that forced Will's body out of its frozen state of shock and out of harm's way. He felt something - something he couldn't even begin to describe - brush past his shoulder, leaving a rippling numbness that rendered his arm cold and useless. His limp hand dropped the arrow he had nocked, and now it bumped against the bowstring as he dove again, out of the way of a second blast.

Will reached for his knives with his non dominant, forced to cross his arm around his body to reach them as he darted to another tree.

The man laughed, grating against Will's shattered nerves.

"No opponent of mine has ever lasted this long," the man bellowed.

_It's only been ten seconds,_ thought the Ranger, grimacing at the strange, pulsating feeling emanating from his arm, which he now held against his side even as he gripped the throwing knife. He need to survive put him on the offensive.

"You may be the worthy adversary I have been waiting for," continued the wizard - And he was most certainly a wizard, thought Will ruefully. "My first candidate for…"

Will didn't wait for the spiel to end. As Halt had always said, an enemy talking was an enemy distracted. He burst out from behind the tree and threw.

The wizard's hand flew up at the last second, deflecting the whirling weapon with incredible speed and impossible power. The blade sliced into his palm.

Will already had his Saxe knife out, swinging his arm to finish the job.

A few syllables, and suddenly Will was on the ground, gasping for breath, the Saxe flying wide of its target. His body felt like it was being torn apart, and he could do nothing but scream. It felt like hours, and the pain masked the reality of what was happening. Vaguely, Will could sense the wizard standing over him, observing his handiwork, but the Ranger could do nothing as his body twisted in agony.

Then his bones were twisting, then his skin was splitting. He was dying, surely.

When it ended, Will's senses returned, although the memory left him shaken. He lay on the ground, staring out at the world from a sideways view, with leaves and grass sticking smothering his face. Something was different, he realized.

Still aware of the sorcerer's presence (the man was laughing gleefully), Will took stock of his body. To his horror, he realized it wasn't his body.

His senses were sharper; the wizard's laughter rang shrilly in his ears, and his eyes cut through the darkness like a knife. Smells assaulted his nose, making his flinch from head to toe. Beyond that, his body was smaller, more compact, thinner, leaner, more powerful. Four long, thin legs stretched out across the grass, quivering as every hair thrilled with sensation. He was covered in fur, from head to toe.

No, not toe - tail. A strange weight padded down the grass behind him. Head to tail, Will realized that he did not possess a human body.

With an explosive jerk, Will was on his feet. Then he was off his feet, stumbling back to the ground like a newborn pup trying to walk for the first time. His body didn't have far to fall; the thudding of his heart was stronger than the impact with the ground.

Breath came in panting gasps. Muscles stretched taut with fear lunged again, trying to coordinate themselves. Again he stumbled, but he managed to catch himself this time. He stood, stiff-legged, overwhelmed by the changes.

The wizard was still laughing, gleefully muttering to himself in sounds that sounded completely foreign to Will's wolf ears. Will, still capable of some semblance of human thought, paused his panicking to listen and understand.

"It worked… I can't believe it worked! Just think, Alabastion's reaction will be grand! Maybe I'll turn him into a frog!"

The wizard continued in his rambling, but Will understood enough to know that now was the time to leave, while the man was distracted by his own gloating. Carefully, he took a step, testing his balance on his new paws. He leaned too far, and his tail swung to correct. Another step, this one smoother, with less correction needed.

There was a new awareness now, pressing on the edges of Will's consciousness, screaming at him to flee, to escape, to survive. It was a primal instinct to hunt, to hide, and to live. And it was this mind that knew how to run.

And so it ran, with no hesitation, no slips or stumbles, no fear for where paws would find dirt.

The wizard, having been torn out of his self-indulgence, was yelling at his victim. The wolf dug deep, muscles bursting as they tore up long lengths in single bounds, away from the human and into the safety of the forest.

Something sharp tore at his flank, but the wolf kept going, unhindered. Will was carried along. He felt everything, from the pull of his wolf lungs to the stinging pain in his side, but he did not - could not - try to stop himself or interfere with the instinct that carried him to safety.

Smells assaulted him - some familiar, some new. The smell of fire, previously associated with positive things now repelled him. The dew of the forest, the raw scent of a nearby rabbit, the spicy sensations of the human that pursued him even now, blowing his scent all over kingdom come in his rapid movement. The wolf soaked in every aroma, sorting through the information for helpful details that would keep him alive. The rabbit registered, as did the wizard. Catch the first, flee the second, and not in that order. His legs carried him swiftly through the trees, more swiftly than he had ever travelled before, confronting every new scent with intense analysis.

Horse. He could smell horse, just like the old human him had smelled, but now every minute detail, from the sweat to the dung to the saddle leather and even the tightly-wrapped coffee in the saddle bags, was infinitely more clear. The wolf wanted to ignore it, to race away from the danger that was behind, but Will shoved aside the instinct and stopped. He nearly toppled over his own feet.

The pony looked so different now, towering above the wolf. Will trotted up, marveling, panting, fighting down the overwhelming urge to continue on his way.

Tug stared at the predator as it approached. The horse had smelled the wolf, but out of defiant loyalty to Will's command to stay, Tug confronted the danger before him, ears flattened back against his head, eyes wide, legs braced to strike at the slightest provocation.

The wolf was eager to run, to leave this useless beast behind, but Will fought the urge to sprint away. Sullen refusal of instinct looked like hunger to the horse. Tug squealed and lunged, sharp hooves flashing.

Will escaped by a hair's breadth. He slipped to the side, backing away to give the horse some space. His horse. But no longer his. It broke his heart to think that Tug didn't recognize him, and he was now his friend's undeniable natural enemy.

Tug backed away, back to the same place where Will had left him. _Good boy_, thought Will, even as frustration threatened to betray him to the fear. The distant sound of a large human crashing through the forest drew a twitch of his sensitive pointed ears, and the instinct snarled at him - and at the horse - to run. Will remained rooted in place.

His horse was still watching him. Will thought, frantically. How he could communicate and convince Tug to come? Not only was he a wolf that had the capability to destroy a pony, but he had also left instructions to stay to a pony that was loyal to a fault. Thoughts whirled through his head, dangerously frail under the weight of the wolf's plain command to go.

The password was impossible, Will knew; his new mouth and tongue didn't operate for language. His tongue was for panting, and drooling, and lapping, and tasting. His teeth were for biting and tearing, not trapping and forming sound. Such a simple thing, language was, and Will had taken it for granted. The wolf leering at such silly sensitivities.

He could drive the horse away. But that would require violence, and Will couldn't bring himself to bite his faithful horse, even if the wolf wanted to do so in its sullen frustration with its transcendent intelligence.

He would have to leave Tug behind, Will realized. He stared with longing eyes at the large pony, his wolf body emanating a sadness that puzzled the pony. For long seconds he stared as a powerful sense of loneliness overwhelmed him.

With an impatient yap, the wolf bolted into the forest.

**Afterthoughts:**

**This is my first ever (published) fan fic. I've been doing stuff like this for years, but I never put any real effort into my works. I suspect that updated chapters will be few and far between due to the demands of real life, but I would love to hear some feedback - feedback is motivational to me.**

**Reading through again, I feel like I'm lacking the background relationship between Will and Tug... I'm thinking of adding in some of that mysterious dialogue that goes on in the books, but I'm hesitant to because of the implications for when Will is no longer human. Also, their separation was lacking emotional impact. ****Thoughts? **

**Also, feel free to point out typos, spelling, grammar, etc. (NOTE: some sentences are intentionally incomplete or run-ons for emotional or artistic impact.) I'm picky about stuff like that, but I know that I will always miss something in my rereads and editing. If something sticks out as incorrect, please let me know.**


End file.
